


It Takes A Village (or a ship)

by gravidure



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One), Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Childbirth, Crew as Family, Fluff, Fluid Sparkling Support, Lab Sex, M/M, Mech Preg, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Overstimulation, Pregnancy Kink, Pregnant Sex, Spark Sexual Interfacing, Sticky Sexual Interfacing, labor, rating for future chapters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-01
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2019-12-30 06:14:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18309827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gravidure/pseuds/gravidure
Summary: After jumping into a brand new universe, Perceptor finds himself sparked. Brainstorm is shocked, and he's not the only one.(Mostly fluff, and later... more.)





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just... there is a disappointing lack of Pregnant!Percy in the simpatico tag, you know?

“I'm sorry, you're… you're what?” 

Brainstorm watched as his lab-partner-now-life-partner made an uncharacteristic squirm while waving his hands as if pointing at a diagram only he could see. 

“As I said, it's not as if I intended…”

“Sparked?” Brainstorm asked, trying to bypass the oncoming ramble and cut straight to the heart of it. 

Percy seemed to gray a bit at the direct approach. “… yes…”

Brainstorm removed his mask and slowly swiped his hands over his face. “How?” he mumbled into the palms of his hands. 

“Well…” Perceptor flushed slightly. “You _were_ there at the time…”

“Not that!” When Brainstorm looked up, he caught the glint of mischievousness in Perceptor’s optic, a glint that most would have disregarded out right as a trick of the light or their own overactive imagination. 

Brainstorm knew better, though. 

“I mean, all Autobots are required to have spark baffles installed,” Brainstorm said. “I've even had to do some installations in a pinch. No sparklings on the battlefield, right? So… how?”

Percy shuffled again, in a show of uncharacteristic worry. “Well… remember how I reformatted myself?”

Brainstorm crossed his arms. “Right. The sexy sniper glo-up, sure.”

Percy fiddled with his coarse adjustment knob for a moment before continuing. “Spark baffles are installed with a cant to the right, to interrupt the orbit of a developing spark…”

“Of course, but what does that have to do with—”

“It was throwing off my weight distribution,” Percy interrupted. 

Brainstorm stared at him for a long moment, before blinking in astonishment. “What?”

“The sniper modifications are all very particular. And delicate. It required the utmost precision. Even a gram out of place on either side could cause a wealth of problems…” 

“So you just… removed it?”

Perceptor met his gaze for a few moments, before responding with a shrug. “I mean, I already had to account for the weight of my scope, so anything that could go…” 

“No no no,” Brainstorm said, shaking his head. “I don't buy it, that was ages ago. There's no way you made it through the rest of the war — through the Wreckers! — with no baffle. The wreckers do have a reputation, you know.”

Perceptor shrugged. “There are other methods to prevent sparking. For example, ensuring that you don't engage with spark merging and valve intercourse within the same breeding cycle, which in my case is a period of—”

Brainstorm held his hands up, shushing him. While hearing his calculations on the matter might be interesting, Brainstorm knew a moot point when he heard one. “And so… what happened here?”

Perceptor looked down at the floor. “I… forgot…”

Brainstorm’s eyes widened. “Forgot?”

“I was quite distracted…” He continued, a flush spreading over his face again. 

Brainstorm felt a bit flattered, but quickly quashed that feeling. There were too many other things to consider. “Oh Primus, what are we going to do?”

“You're not mad, are you?”

“What?” Brainstorm’s head snapped up, catching Percy’s slightly concerned look. “No, of course not! I'm terrified!”

Perceptor raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“I don't know anything about sparklings!” Brainstorm said, pushing himself up away from the lab table he'd been leaning on and launching himself into a brisk pace. “Hell, all they ever told the MTOs about them were horror stories, to make sure no one got any ideas…” He stopped briefly, clutching his face. “Oh god, what if it's a flier, like me? Aren't there rituals for fliers? I've heard of this sort of thing, old traditions and stuff. Not to mention all the sparkling proofing for a fledgling… Primus, I can't even keep myself from getting hurt, much less—”

Perceptor reached out, interrupting by turning him around so they could properly look at each other and held him tightly by the arms. “So, you want the sparkling then?” 

Brainstorm gave him a blank look. “What? Of course! Obviously—”

This time, Perceptor interrupted him with a kiss. Brainstorm leaned into it, after a short moment of hesitation, wrapping his arms around Perceptor’s frame. He was rewarded with Perceptor relaxing into his arms, the two of them entwining together. 

Finally, Brainstorm broke away, his lips lingering close enough to brush against Perceptor as he spoke. “Were you worried about that?”

“Only a little,” Perceptor admitted. 

Brainstorm let their helms tap together gently. “I'll try to organize my feelings more eloquently next time.”

Perceptor pushed him away slightly. “Excuse me; next time?”

Brainstorm just smirked.  
  


* * *

  
“Alright, that should be all the scans I need,” First Aid said, packing away the spark scanner and signalling that Perceptor could close up. “I can confirm that you are correct; you’re sparked. I’ll need a few more minutes to run through the results and make sure there are no abnormalities. If you don’t mind waiting, I can go over the preliminary results with you in a few minutes.”

Perceptor nodded, tapping a finger over the closed glass of his chest. “Of course, we'll be happy to wait.” 

First Aid nodded at that, moving to close the curtain around Brainstorm and Perceptor while they waited, but paused before leaving. “One more thing though, Perceptor? … I really can’t stress enough how ill-advised the rhythm method is…” 

Perceptor rolled his eyes while Brainstorm snorted. 

“And with the Wreckers, no less…”

“Those rumors are exaggerated,” Perceptor muttered. 

First Aid shrugged, seeming to note this as a good time for a retreat, and closed the curtain behind him. 

“You know, it’s kind of nice to be on this side of things,” Brainstorm said, leaning close to Perceptor. 

Perceptor narrowed an eye at him. “What side of things?”

“I mean, normally I’m the one getting all the lectures about neglecting health and safety procedures in the name of science,” Brainstorm said, waving a hand airily. Perceptor knew well enough that he was smiling under his mask. “Nice to see someone else getting the lectures for a change.”

Perceptor grimaced, but tugged him closer to the berth. Brainstorm wobbled slightly — leaning forward on the stool he’d claimed had left him open to being pulled off-balance — and after fighting gravity for a moment, he let himself tumble halfway onto Perceptor’s berth. He was welcomed with a kiss, so he couldn’t count it all bad. Brainstorm nuzzled close to his helm in response. 

“Just what kind of horror stories did they tell the MTOs anyway?”

“Oh, that?” Brainstorm cocked his head in thought, shifting his weight onto his forearms by Perceptor’s side. “You know, the typical stuff: frame decay, spark strain… I remember this one urban legend about an MTO that ran off after getting sparked by a Decepticon seeker, and then they both got hounded by the DJD… I’m sure there’s some moral parable in there…” 

“Hmm…” Perceptor absentmindedly stroked Brainstorm’s forearm. “We should probably ask First Aid for some reading materials…”

“You’re not scared are you?”

“Of this?” Perceptor asked, resting his free hand on his chest. “No, I just like to be prepared. Truth be told, I’m more afraid of what comes next.”

Brainstorm quirked an optic. “Which is?”

“Telling all of Swerve’s…”

Brainstorm laughed. Swerve had caught sight of the two of them heading to the medbay together, and given that neither of them looked injured and it wasn’t the season for Ratchet to be hounding everyone for physicals, there was sure to be a slew of rumors already circulating. “Guess it’s best to get ahead of it, huh?”

“Rip the solder off, as it were…”

“I think it’ll be fun,” Brainstorm said. 

Perceptor huffed. “So says you.I’m going to be the one everyone is speculating about…”  
  


* * *

  
As predicted, the minute they set foot in Swerve’s all eyes were on them. Brainstorm shot Perceptor an excited glance, to which Percy only sighed and headed for the bar. 

“Well, you can't just leave us in suspense,” Swerve said. “What did you two do? Create some kind of hyperspace parasites?”

“No,” Brainstorm said, with a considering tap to his chin. “But I should write that idea down…”

Perceptor was checking the data pad that First Aid had left them with. Upon finding and analyzing the paragraph on fuel consumption, he sat down at the bar and gave Swere a no-nonsense glare. “Engex, neat.” 

Brainstorm sidled next to him, whispering, “Are you sure that’s—”

Before he could finish, Perceptor handed him the pad, with the relevant paragraph already highlighted. Exotic fuels were not recommended, but high grade energon was fine, and in fact helped dull some of the fatigue symptoms, as the fuel needs went up. 

Ergo, it was unlikely Perceptor could get drunk even if he wanted to, FIM chip or no, but with all eyes on him, he felt willing to try. 

“Well, Swerve is still right,” Riptide groused from the other end of the bar. “You can't leave us hanging!”

“There would be no suspense in the matter if everyone here wasn’t a gossip,” Perceptor said, frowning and shooting him a glare that was enough to make most sane mechs cower. 

Riptide more or less just shrugged. 

Brainstorm, meanwhile, was practically buzzing. “Can I tell them?”

Perceptor drank down the entire glass of engex the moment that Swerve had placed it down, and only once he slammed the glass back down empty did he gesture to Brainstorm that he could continue. 

“I sparked up Perceptor,” Brainstorm shouted, nearly fluttering up onto the bar. At the shocked faces, he laughed and continued. “That’s right! I sparked up Perceptor! Not the other way around! Because I’ve seen the betting pools and I know this isn’t how most of you thought this would go down.”

Brainstorm appeared to be right in the assessment, as there was certainly quite a bit of grumbling and money exchanging going on, among the others that were shouting congratulations. 

“A round for everyone!” Brainstorm shouted, reveling in the attention. Perceptor was glad at least to have him to absorb most of it. “Hey, Chromedome, I can borrow some money, right?” he asked, dipping down in a conspiratorial whisper. 

Chromedome glared. “Ask someone who _won_ the betting pool…”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got it.” Drift seemed to appear out of nowhere, waving as if it was no real concern. Swerve seemed much more willing to pour a round for everyone with someone more reliably wealthy promising to pay, and things exploded into a flurry.

Perceptor drank his newly refilled glass of engex, and tried to disappear into the background. Brainstorm disappeared as Nautica pulled him away for a round of celebratory shots, and Perceptor felt a bit exposed. 

Luckily, Drift settled down next to him. He didn’t say anything right away, but he was smirking slightly. 

“Are you treating because you won the bet?” Perceptor asked. 

“Primus no,” Drift said, retrieving his drink from the now-busy Swerve and taking a sip. “I know he’s not conjunxed yet, but I still put my money on Rodimus.” 

Perceptor laughed at that, and Drift seemed satisfied. “How are you doing with this?” he asked. 

“Honestly?” Perceptor said. “Nervous.”

“Understandable.” Drift shrugged. “Good nervous or bad nervous?”

Perceptor’s gaze drifted over the where Brainstorm was still halfway swallowed by a crowd as he pulled a face at whatever Nautica had just made him drink. He met Perceptor’s glance and smiled brightly, like a sun. 

“Good nervous,” Perceptor said, smiling to himself and turning back to Drift. “Definitely good nervous.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some of the crew reacts to Perceptor's pregnancy... (occasionally to Perceptor's annoyance)

If anyone ever asked Rodimus to point to evidence that the Lost Light had changed people, he would point to this moment, where Minimus ordered a drink, only to down it just as fast and order another. Swerve looked stunned, while Megatron — sitting on the other side of Minimus, he and Rodimus blocking the smaller bot in — just chuckled into his own drink. 

Ratchet joined them just a moment later, giving Minimus a look. “I suppose the three of you have heard then.” 

“Been a while since we took on a new crew member,” Megatron said wryly, while Ratchet ordered a triple of something unholy sounding.

“I honestly can’t believe it was Perceptor, of all bots,” Minimus said, frowning. “Brainstorm making a foolish decision like this, certainly, but Perceptor?” 

“Tell me about it. He wasn’t even in the top thirty,” Swerve muttered, pouring a generous glug into a glass for Ratchet. 

“Excuse me?” Minimus snapped. 

Swerve froze, only barely managing to catch himself before spilling Ratchet’s drink. “I, uh, I mean like, you know, hypothetically…” 

Four suspicious glances leveled on him.

He sighed. “Fine.” Swerve reached below the bar and pulled out a data tablet. “Ever since we hopped universes, I’ve had a series of ongoing betting pools for things people think will eventually happen. One of them is who gets sparked up first.” 

“First?” Minimus said, his voice turning a bit squeaky, making Rodimus chuckle. 

“I mean, this many bots locked on a ship for who knows how long?” Swerve shrugged. “It’s bound to happen sometime, right?” 

Minimus snatched the tablet out of his hands, scouring it with his eyes. “Oh… this is actually a nice format… Are these links to related bets? Most likely sires? Oh, a whole different spreadsheet for each…” 

“Hey, go back,” Rodimus said, looking over Minimus’s shoulder. “Wait, why am I first on the sparked list? Did most people bet on me?” 

Ratchet’s laugh was hardly muffled by his drink. 

Rodimus glared at him. 

“Laugh it up, _eleven_ ,” Rodimus shot at him. 

Ratchet shrugged. “Responsible enough to fall out of top ten, but fun enough to stay close by, I’ll take it.” 

“Nice as these spreadsheets are,” Minimus said, tossing the tablet roughly back onto the bar, “why anyone would think such an irresponsible act is worth betting on is beyond me.” 

Rodimus eyed him, mostly to see if the engex was hitting his systems yet, but even without any slurring to amuse him, he chuckled. “I dunno, is it really such a bad decision?” 

Minimus hit him with a stern glare, the same brand that had likely killed a few perps on the spot when the Magnus armor wielded it. “Rodimus, you know better than anyone the kind of things we get up to on this ship. Sometimes I think it’s hardly safe for any grown mech, much less…” His frown deepened as he trailed off, and picked up his drink instead. 

Rodimus shrugged. “Sure, but name me a place where it’s safe to bring up a sparkling. War torn Cybertron? Please.” 

“I find myself agreeing,” Megatron said, and Minimus nearly choked on his drink. “After four million years of war, and several more of tense situations, this is probably the most secure many of these mechs have felt in their lifetimes.” He shrugged, taking a sip. “I know I feel the most safe I’ve ever been here.” 

“You’re not wrong there,” Ratchet said. “Besides, it’s not as if the ship can’t handle it. We never had a full crew complement; no need to stack people in like we did during the war. There’s elbow room, places to expand. Perceptor and Brainstorm might not be an anomaly. We might be looking at the new normal here.” 

Minimus shook his head, downing more of his drink. 

Meanwhile, Rodimus was laughing. He pawed at the tablet, taking a look at the bets. “Well then, Ratchet, what about you and… wow, ‘number three’ on the list? Planning any expansions?” 

“That’s none of your business,” Ratchet said, but was smiling into his glass. 

“I’m surrounded,” Minimus muttered into his drink. 

Rodimus smirked, turning the tablet back towards him. “Hey Mins, I know you’re all the way down at one-thirteen, but did you see who the top two sire bets for you were?” 

Minimus’s drink ended up splattered across the screen.  
  


* * *

  
Perceptor drummed his fingers over his flat abdomen. He paused, considering for a moment. He’d only just woken up from his recharge, and for some reason that had been his first impulse. Logically, it didn’t make much sense; there was nothing in there just yet. His gestational tank was only just getting started, so there wouldn’t be much indication of his carrying for quite some time. The sparkling was still orbiting his own spark, and wouldn’t descend to his tank until there was something more substantial for it to attach to. Still, something fascinated him enough to draw his hand there. The idea that soon, well… 

He turned to look at the other side of the berth, and wasn’t surprised to find it empty, but still frowned. He’d fallen into recharge before Brainstorm had gotten back, and now he was clearly up early. 

Which was odd in and of itself. 

He picked himself up out of his berth, and deciding with a quick look that he was presentable enough, he set out looking for his wayward conjux. 

It was a bit awkward, walking down the hall when clearly the entire ship had heard of his condition by now. Certainly no one was being rude about it; in fact, it was quite the opposite. Everyone seemed to greet him with a knowing smile or a curious glance. It seemed he was the new ship oddity… But, everyone waved at him, perhaps a bit more friendly than usual to make up for the staring. After walking what seemed like half the length and breadth of the ship, he found his hand instinctively cupped over his midsection again. He considered that, before moving his hand over his spark chamber. 

“I suppose we’re quite the spectacle, you and I.” Logically, he knew that he probably just imagined the twinge in his spark, his mind fabricating a reply from a not-yet-sentient sparkling, but with no one around to see the action, he smiled to himself. “Perhaps you’ll like the attention as much as your sire does…” Perceptor wasn’t sure if that would be a good thing or a bad thing. 

He came up to the lab door before he had more time to dwell on it. 

Utter chaos greeted him behind the door. In his time with Brainstorm as his lab partner he had seen a wide variety of chaos befall the lab, though nothing quite nearing the magnitude of Whirl standing on one of the work tables, clutching at the cupboard edge and squinting. 

“Hey, could you throw me the roll of squishy stuff?” Whirl asked, directing his question at some point just below him that was obscured by another workbench and a pile of lab equipment that was all out of order and haphazardly lying about. In answer, a clawed hand appeared up from behind the mound, and tossed a blue roll of _something_ at him. 

“What…” Perceptor faltered, squinted, and tried again. “What’s going on here?”

Cyclonus’s head popped out from behind the pile of equipment, and Perceptor couldn’t quite figure out if he was glaring or if that was just his normal expression. 

“Percy!!” Before he could dwell on it much, Brainstorm appeared seemingly out of nowhere. He pulled him off to the side, lowering his voice as if in a whisper, but they both knew well that the open lab didn’t offer much privacy. “Hey, sorry you kind of just walked in on this, I would have warned you, but… well, it all kind of happened so fast…”

“ _What_ exactly happened so fast?” Perceptor asked, narrowing his eyes. 

“We’re sparkling proofing the place,” Whirl said, waving his clawful of blue squishy tape around matter-of-factly. 

“Flight-frame proofing,” Cyclonus clarified. 

“Why—” Percy stopped, sighed, and continued. “We don’t know the sparkling’s frame type, so why…” 

“When we were drinking last night, Stormy-Storms was so anxious and worried about it, so Cyc and I kinda decided, hell yeah, let’s do this!” Whirl explained. 

Brainstorm was looking away, shuffling sheepishly. 

“It was cute,” Whirl said. “He cried a little.”

“I didn’t,” Brainstorm muttered. 

“He did,” Cyclonus said, not looking up from his work of measuring a cupboard door. “A little. And it was indeed… cute.”

Perceptor clasped his hand over his face, pinching over the bridge of his nose. “Be that as it may… Why is this happening?”

Cyclonus braced himself on the workbench and pulled himself up to standing, narrowly avoiding goring Whirl with a horn, though both of them seemed to move easily around each other with the practiced grace of being in the same space. 

“It’s traditional for a seeker’s trine to help prepare for a sparkling, regardless of who their mate is,” Cyclonus explained. “Brainstorm has no trine, but being among the few flight frames on the ship…”

“I figured Cyclonus would be a good person to panic at about not knowing the first thing about sparkling traditions,” Brainstorm whispered to Perceptor. “I didn’t realize the can of scraplets I was opening.”

Whirl loudly pulled at the squishy tape, the sound of plastic and adhesive ripping against each other filling the air. “You’re just lucky Stormy managed to stop Cyc from starting a nest…”

Brainstorm buried his face in his hands, clearly lamenting the lack of a face mask.

Cyclonus crossed his arms unwilling to look apologetic in any way. “There are traditions to be upheld.”

Perceptor sighed. “Completely brushing past the fact that I am not a seeker and there is certainly no guarantee that the sparkling will be either… what exactly do these traditions entail?”

Cyclonus seemed ready to launching into a diatribe before Whirl jumped down from the counter in a flurry of limbs. 

“No,” Whirl said. “Please don’t get him started we’ll be here for the next megacycle.”

Cyclonus glared at him, but Perceptor thought that, on someone with cheeks to really convey it, the expression might look more like a pout. 

Perceptor couldn’t hold back the ensuing laugh. 

Everyone seemed to pause at that. 

“Are you, uh, mad?” Brainstorm finally asked. 

Perceptor rubbed a hand over his eyes, still lightly chuckling. “This whole thing is absurd,” he muttered. “I never could have predicted that I’d one day have a lab full of flight frames casually taping up the sharp edges and discussing making a nest… It’s not as if my caste had any rituals regarding sparkling carrying, being a rare condition for a scientist to find themself in.”

“Quite the opposite for seekers,” Cyclonus said. “Carried sparklings were rare, but prized. Seekers were naturally obsessed with lineages, one may say to a fault. Along with strict rules and traditions for how the next generation should be brought into the world.”

“Hey, Cyc,” Whirl said with a snicker in his voice. “What do you think the odds are Percy’ll get the zoomies?”

Perceptor squinted, his face contorting into a grimace. “Zoomies?”

“An old carriers’ tale,” Cyclonus said, waving a hand in a cuttingly dismissive way. “One of the ways seekers perpetuated the ideals of frame purity. Seekers are known to have intense urges to fly often while carrying. It was said that if a non-flier ever carried a flight frame sparkling, they would experience the flight urges with no way to follow through.” 

Brainstorm’s wings twitched irritably. “Now that you mention it, I could use a good flight, out in real open air. Doubt that has anything to do with sparklings though.”

Whirl and Cyclonus grunted in agreement. 

“Well, I’m sure that won’t be an issue for me,” Perceptor said, crossing his arms over his chest. 

Cyclonus shrugged. “All the same, I’ll talk to the captains and see if we can arrange some shore leave, just in case.” 

“Besides, I’m sure you’ll have other urges,” Whirl muttered. “If you know what I mean.” He flexed his claws in a manner that muddled his innuendo more than clarified it. 

Perceptor sighed loudly, and grabbed Brainstorm by his collar fairings. “May I talk to you for a minute?” 

“You know, you phrase it like a question, but the way you tug makes it—” Brainstorm was cut off entirely as Perceptor dragged him into the lab supply closet. 

Before the door completely snapped shut, they heard the sound of Whirl whistling lewdly. 

“Look, I’m so sorry about this,” Brainstorm said before Perceptor could say anything. “I can’t really explain, it all just snowballed so fast and—” 

Perceptor cut him off with a kiss, pushing himself up to the tips of his pedes and pulling Brainstorm down to eliminate the height difference. When he pulled away, Brainstorm looked completely flabbergasted, in a way that made Perceptor smirk. 

“Uhh, what’s happening?” Brainstorm asked. 

Perceptor shrugged. “I’m not mad. I think it’s sweet, actually, that you were so concerned that they felt the need to help.” 

“So… then why are we in here?” 

Perceptor leaned in. “Despite Whirl’s innuendo, I suspect they both think I’m likely yelling at you. And as we learned in your little battery mishap, the supply closet is soundproof, so they won’t be able to tell otherwise.” 

“Look, about the battery thing, it’s like I said before—” Once again, Perceptor cut him off with a kiss. “Wait,” Brainstorm muttered into Perceptor’s mouth. “If we’re not in here to yell at me, what are we in here for?” 

Perceptor pulled Brainstorm down further to loop his arms around the back of his neck. “I guess you could… call it a case of the zoomies…” 

“What?” Brainstorm asked, before being caught off with a kiss. “Oh.” Another kiss. “Now?” 

“Better than watching them destroy the lab,” Perceptor muttered into Brainstorm’s neck. 

Brainstorm had trouble arguing with that, especially as Perceptor pushed him harder into the wall.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel bad that I haven't posted in like two weeks because I'm dead. Here, have a chapter about Megatron, because I've lost control of my life.
> 
> (Remember when this was supposed to be a flimsy setup for PWP? I do...)

Megatron cleared his throat, trying to gain the attention of the surly medic whose full attention seemed to be consumed by cataloguing inventory. Megatron still wasn’t used to having a superior to report to, but part of Ratchet’s conditions for taking Megatron on as another medic was that he would report directly to him. Megatron couldn’t find fault with the idea; in fact, contrary to what Ratchet might like to believe, he actually found it comforting. For once, he could rely on someone else while learning, instead of simply barreling forward with his best guess at what was right. But it still came with certain downsides… 

With no response from Ratchet, Megatron cleared his throat again. 

“Dear Primus, would you just get on with whatever it is you’d like to say?” Ratchet muttered, without looking up from his work. 

“I…” Megatron frowned. “I’d like to ask you something.”

Ratchet graced him with the barest glance over his shoulder. “Professionally or personally?” 

“Potentially both.”

At that, Ratchet put down his inventory sheet, and turned to look fully at Megatron, though not without a sigh. “Well?”

Megatron shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “It involves the matter of Perceptor.” At Ratchet’s unchanging expression, he continued. “It’s not, well, _just_ Perceptor. As you said yourself, this could become the new normal and… I…”

Megatron stopped as Ratchet barked out a laugh. 

“What?”

“Nothing,” Ratchet said. “Just lamenting that I’ll never get to tell Optimus about how I have Megatron squirming and fumbling over his words in my medbay.” 

Megatron straightened his spinal struts, holding himself steady in the face of such an implication. 

“There you are,” Ratchet said. “Now quit beating around the panels and ask me what you’d like to ask. Surely you’re not asking me to weigh in on your own family planning.”

Megatron scoffed. “I assure you, I can handle those affairs without your input.”

“Yes, according to the betting pool, I’m neither of the two mechs most likely to provide said input.”

Megatron sighed. “Ratchet…”

Ratchet waved a hand in a silent apology, and though it seemed half-hearted, Megatron had worked with Ratchet long enough to know that he did everything with his entire heart.

“My inquiry is more medical,” Megatron said. “If this is to become the ‘new normal’, it would make sense for someone on the medical staff to specialize in such matters.”

Ratchet rolled his shoulders, looking off in a considering way. “That seems a little premature. And besides, First Aid and Velocity have other interests they’ve invested more in. And I’m already the resident expert in everything.”

Megatron ignored the considerable grumble that followed the last sentiment. “I know,” he said, staring directly at Ratchet and waiting for him to meet the glance. “I had someone else in mind.” 

Ratchet finally looked back at him. And infuriatingly, he smirked. 

“Don’t give me that,” Megatron muttered. 

“I didn’t say anything,” Ratchet said, crossing his arms. “I think it’s a good idea… if that’s what you want.”

Megatron was the one to break eye contact this time. “It… makes sense. After all, I’ve certainly taken enough lives. But…”

“But,” Ratchet echoed. “My only reservation is I expect the reason you’re being so timid.”

“Perceptor,” Megatron said. “He’s never been… one of my biggest fans.”

Ratchet laughed. “You could say that. But it’s not really my decision to make, Megatron. I won’t assign a doctor to Perceptor that he isn’t comfortable with.”

“I know,” Megatron said. “I thought as his friend—”

Ratchet laughed. “Perceptor may not seem like a very expressive bot, but trust me, if he doesn’t like an idea, you _will_ know. As his friend, my advice is you need to ask him,” Ratchet said with a shrug. “Just make sure you do it face to face.”

“Of course,” Megatron said.“I hope you wouldn’t think I’d take the cowardly way out or something.”

“No, I mean make sure you’re too close for him to use his sniper rifle.” With that, he turned back to his work. 

Megatron paled, but swore not to comment on it.  
  


* * *

  
The planet was a rugged desert world, deserted as far as any of their sensors could tell them. A hot wind crossed Perceptor’s face, and he had to admit that it was a welcome change from the endlessly recycled air of the ship. He brushed a hand low over his abdomen, the bump now making its presence known. 

Others were also clamoring out of the ship, proving that the excursion was by no means for his benefit alone. The air was soon filled with the sound of transformations, people eager to stretch out their alt modes in the open air. 

“Come on, Brainstorm,” Whirl called out impatiently, as Cyclonus transformed around Tailgate, clearly intending to take him on their flight as well. 

“One sec,” Brainstorm called, from right behind Perceptor. He looked down, giving Perceptor’s shoulder a pat. “Did you want me to stick around, or?” His wings were already twitching in the hot wind. 

Perceptor smiled at him. “Go on. I’ll meet up with you after you’ve gotten a few laps in.” 

Brainstorm’s wings fluttered in thanks, and he wasted no time catching up to the other fliers and transforming, the three of them taking off in a great gust. 

“Wanna take a few laps with me?” Drift said, appearing on Perceptor’s other side. 

Behind him, Rodimus was pouting. “I thought you and I could race.”

Drift waved him off. 

“Actually…” Perceptor turned to see Megatron hovering behind him. “Sorry to mob you, but I was wondering if we could have a word.” He shifted his weight, in a way Perceptor wouldn’t hesitate to call nervous if anyone else had done it. “I thought also my alt mode might be a more comparable speed if you’d like a travelling companion.”

Perceptor turned back to Drift, nodding at him that he was fine on his own. Drift shrugged. “Comm me if you need me then,” he said, before walking over to the now-excited Rodimus. 

“A word about what?” Perceptor asked, turning his attention back to Megatron. 

Megatron gestured a hand forward. “I promise it’s mostly professional.”

Perceptor nodded, and transformed into his tank mode, a bit more cautiously than he normally would have. He was nowhere near the point where his gestational tank may cause problems with his transformation sequence, but a little caution never hurt. Megatron transformed as well, and Perceptor realized he couldn’t remember a time in recent memory that he had seen his alt mode. 

“New modifications?” Perceptor asked, giving megatron a once over with his sensors. He seemed less like a war tank, and more… 

Megatron began moving forward, his still-treaded alt mode cutting divots into the sandy terrain. Perceptor easily followed the even pace. 

“I had my weapons systems removed before joining the Lost Light, as you know,” Megatron said. “And later, I thought it made more sense to… return to a mode closer to my original.”

Indeed, it was far closer to a mining vehicle than anything else, but it was such an in-between state that it nearly defied categorization. 

“Brainstorm, I presume?”

Megatron merely hummed in acknowledgement. 

“I can understand why he opted not to share that with me,” Perceptor muttered. 

“He wanted to build an entirely new frame,” Megatron admitted. “I have my doubts my spark would deign to graft to a new mode, and even so, I hardly have any idea what alt mode I would prefer.” He was silent a moment, with only the sounds of their treads crunching through sand. “However, I doubt you wanted to hear me ramble about my own alt mode.”

“I could think of worse things,” Perceptor said. “What is it you wanted to talk to me about? You said it was professional. Are you speaking as the co-captain or as a medical officer?”

“Never one to miss a guess,” Megatron said. “My inquiry is medical in nature… mostly.”

“Spit it out,” Perceptor said, not willing to wait around for Megatron’s hesitation. 

Megatron’s engine grumbled a bit annoyed. “You sound just like Ratchet.”

“I take that as a compliment.”

Megatron hesitated a moment longer, and Perceptor considered his next move. Before he had to say anything though, Megatron spoke. “Among the medical staff, we have been discussing taking on specializations that will help the crew… Given recent events, I have been considering taking on a specialty in carrying.”

Perceptor screeched to a halt, and transformed. Megatron followed suite, and Perceptor at least took some solace in the fact that he looked truly concerned. 

“Perceptor…”

Perceptor waved a hand and Megatron went silent. Perceptor looked at him, and walked a full circle around him, considering. 

“Alright,” Perceptor finally said. 

“Alright?” Megatron nearly sputtered the word. “Is that all?”

“No, I’d like Ratchet to supervise you,” Perceptor said. “But if he says you are fit to treat me, then by all means.”

“So, your trust in Ratchet outweighs your mistrust in me?”

“Yes,” Perceptor said, and he took small pleasure in seeing Megatron flinch. Still, he wasn’t without mercy. “I don’t hate you, Megatron. I mean, certainly I did once, but who didn’t?”

Megatron shrugged, conceding the point. 

“But you’re part of the crew,” Perceptor continued. “When I suggested the universe jump in the first place, I knew that meant accepting you as… well, let’s call it a ‘permanent fixture’ in our new community.” 

“I doubt you had this in mind…” 

“No,” Perceptor admitted. “But, well to be quite frank, I didn’t expect a lot of things that have come to pass.” He ran a hand over the mound of his abdomen and shrugged. “If this is the role you want to play…” Perceptor shifted on his pedes slightly, trying not to show his discomfort — which if he was honest had more to do with his new passenger than with his current company. “Well, I hardly have room to judge.” He held out a hand, which seemed to mystify Megatron, who stared at it in genuine surprise before grabbing it to shake. 

“Also, if you do anything I disapprove of to me or my sparkling…” 

“Yes, sniper rifle…” Megatron muttered quickly. “I’m aware. I understand.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fic finally earns its rating, and anything you can do, Perceptor can do better and while heavily pregnant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW content starts here and will ramp up next chapter. Mind the tag changes!  
> There's also a few other fluff bits in here, so hopefully that flows okay, lol

Brainstorm panted, his cooling fans clicking on to a setting higher than he realized they went. He was careful to make sure he fully slid his spike out of Perceptor before he let his frame finally collapse on the berth beside him. 

Perceptor sat up, though not without some difficulty. Had Brainstorm’s arms still felt to be in working order he would have helped. Well, ‘helped’ for certain definitions of the word. 

It was impossible to deny Perceptor’s pregnancy now, the panels around his midriff bowing out to a neat dome. Brainstorm found the whole thing entirely fascinating; at least, that’s how he framed it when he couldn’t keep his hands off of it. 

He had gotten smacked by Perceptor enough times for trying to touch the bump in public that the idea of modesty was just starting to sink in. But alone… 

Perceptor flipped over with some difficulty, moving his legs so that he was straddling Brainstorm’s lap. He ran his hands over Brainstorm’s cockpit, leaning over until said bump sat flush against Brainstorm’s abdomen. 

“Don’t tell me you’re worn out already,” Perceptor said. Actually, it was more like a purr, Brainstorm mused hazily, and that was the thought that made him realize his processor was spinning with exhaustion. 

He prodded his arms until he could run his hands over Perceptor’s sides. “Already? _Already?_ Perceptor, you’re going to wring me dry like this, how can you possibly want _more_ transfluid?” 

Perceptor placed his hands on Brainstorm’s cockpit, walking his fingers up, over his spark chamber, and closer and closer to the sensitive cabling of Brainstorm’s neck. “Well, if you calculate the average transfluid requirements of a developing sparkling in the last quarter of development…” His voice was positively purring. 

Brainstorm couldn’t deny a shudder that went through his frame at that. “Much as I love a good math problem,” Brainstorm said, cutting Perceptor off with a wave. It took everything in him, both because of his exhaustion and the fact that he would otherwise love to hear that voice go on and on. “I’m pretty sure we’re past that point…” 

Perceptor rested the weight of his elbows on Brainstorm’s cockpit so that his fingers could tease at his cables. “Megatron sent me an interesting article about the gestational development of science modes and the increased need for materials for processor development…” 

“Please… please don’t bring up Megatron while our panels are still open…” 

Perceptor shrugged. 

“So, you’re saying Megatron thinks it’s a microscope?” Brainstorm asked. 

“He said he can’t be sure,” Perceptor said. “But it’s a theory.” 

Brainstorm narrowed his eyes, before smirking. “A theory that conveniently gets you what you want…” 

Perceptor looked away. “Well…” 

“That’s bad science, Perce.” 

“I’m not exactly saying—”

“Hey, wait.” Brainstorm pushed himself up, as much as Perceptor’s weight would allow — honestly a mere matter of centimeters — and smirked. “You can’t kiss me.” 

Perceptor blinked at him. “What?” 

“Normally you kiss me to shut me up when I call you out like that…” 

“I do not. How dare you suggest I would employ anything in our arguments beyond pure logic and—” 

Brainstorm wasn’t looking at his face anymore, and instead was staring between them. “Oh my god, you literally can’t reach my face at this angle can you?” 

Perceptor’s face flushed. “I—” 

Brainstorm laid back down, freeing up his arms to stroke over Perceptor’s bump. “It’s too big now and you can’t catch me all the way down here.” He was grinning as his fingers teased over the bowed panels. 

Perceptor huffed, and in a swift motion backed away and grabbed Brainstorm by the thighs. Before Brainstorm knew what was happening, his aft was being hoisted into the air his thighs slotted over Perceptor’s shoulders. 

“Fine,” Perceptor growled, tantalizingly close to Brainstorm’s open panel. “But I’ll show you what I still can do.” 

Brainstorm had no time to think of a witty reply before he nearly shorted out from Perceptor’s tongue swiping over his sensitive port. 

“P-percy.” 

“Maybe this,” Perceptor said between torturous licks, “will get you back up for round two.” 

Brainstorm’s hand balled into fists as he squirmed, the overstimulation making his vision short as he bit back needy moans. “Percy! Ah… If you think we’re just coming up on round two, I think I may have fragged the ability to count out of you.” 

Rather than replying, Perceptor brought the rest of his mouth into play, completely covering Brainstorm’s port with wet heat, delving his tongue deep. When Brainstorm squirmed, he just tightened his grip on his hips. “It’s still round two until I say it is.” 

Brainstorm’s reply was a pleasurable yelp, and a breathy, though slurred, “yessir.”  
  


* * *

  
Brainstorm barely dodged an errant laser blast, scrambling to get back to the console they had unearthed. Luckily the blast didn’t seem to have done much to it, so hopefully he could still hack into it, and… 

“Brainstorm, if you don’t mind, could you hurry up?” Rodimus groused, popping up from his hiding spot behind a boulder to fire a few shots back at the strange alien drones that were shooting at them. 

Brainstorm rolled his optics while tapping into the alien computer console. “Oh, I’m sorry, am I the one that decided we should explore this obviously-a-trap pleasure planet and ended up triggering the defense systems?”

“Well,” Rodimus said, while dodging another blast, “you didn’t exactly say ‘no’ either, did you?” 

Before they could continue, a massive tree crashed the ground with a boom. Unfortunately only one of the drones came down with it, but the others scattered, giving a moment of peace. 

Off at the base of the tree — well, a stump now — Cyclonus was scowling and rubbing sap from his great sword’s blade. 

“I bet that’s bad for the blade,” Rodimus muttered. 

“I’d appreciate if you keep this from Drfit and spare me the lecture about it,” Cyclonus said, not looking up. 

“Well, if we survive, I won’t tell if you won’t.” 

Beneath Brainstorm’s fingers, the alien characters on the screen suddenly blinked out, replaced with a glowing red screen. “Umm,” he said, lacking anything more useful to contribute. 

“Please tell me that a good ‘umm’,” Rodimus said, shooting him a glare. 

“Well, it’s entirely possible that this is a culture in which bright red flashes are a good thing,” Brainstorm said, turning the console to try to rip the back of it off to get to the motherboard, “but given our luck so far…” 

A great buzzing came from over the tree, and through an explosion of foliage burst three more drones. Brainstorm scraped at the device’s back a bit more furiously, hoping against hope that maybe if he got in and cracked into the mainframe he could disable the… 

His thought process was cut off with the crack of a high powered rifle firing. The middle drone fell from the air, crunching into so much scrap metal in an instant. Cyclonus had to leap away as the second one likewise came crashing down with another thunderous crack. 

A third bullet whizzed just past Brainstorm’s helm, and pierced clean through the drone that was creeping up behind him to defend the control console. 

While Brainstorm was still frozen in place, Rodimus tapped the communicator on his audial. “Drift, please tell me that means you arrived with backup.” 

“No,” he said, in a voice loud and confused enough that the rest of the group could hear. 

Brainstorm followed the trajectory of the bullet, as far as he could estimate, up to a point on a ridge not far away, where sure enough he could a mech slinging a sniper rifle over his shoulder. 

Brainstorm’s wings twitched once in excitement of recognition, but then drooped just as quickly. “Percy!!” 

Perceptor waved, before awkwardly lowering himself and sliding down the ridge, to the soundtrack of Brainstorm’s sputtering. 

“Percy, I thought you said you were going to stay behind while we poked around,” Brainstorm shouted, right as he was coming into range of their haggard group. “You know… stay away from all the likely dangerous shenanigans.” 

To that, Perceptor shrugged. “I did… until Drift got the distress call.” He took the sniper rifle from his back and handed it to Brainstorm. “I don’t suppose I could get you to adjust the stock on this? I think my… well, _additional bulk_ affected my grip.” 

Brainstorm squinted at him. “Additional… _Percy!_ ” He took the rifle anyway, glaring at it as he looked it over.

Perceptor had brushed past him, squatting down — though not without some difficulty — and propping up one of the drones. “See here?” he said, poking at the entry point of the bullet, right on the drone’s tracking system screen. “I was aiming for a dead center, but it’s a clear two centimeters to the left.” He dropped it, sighing. “I apologize for the sloppy work.” 

Rodimus looked at him a minute, before shrugging. “I guess we’ll forgive this one time.” 

“I…” Brainstorm waved a hand frantically, first at his conjunx, then at the other two mechs. “Would someone please… be indignant about this with me? Percy shouldn’t… I mean probably not… I mean…” 

Perceptor glared at him as best as he could, though he was clearly trying to negotiate how to gracefully stand back up. Luckily Rodimus seemed to take the hint and offered him a hand. 

Brainstorm looked to Cyclonus and gave a distressed flutter of his wings. “Isn’t there some… rule or custom about this?” 

Cyclonus shrugged. “I believe the custom is that the carrying mech with the sniper rifle makes the rules.” 

Perceptor gave him a look that he would never admit was smug, and Brainstorm decided to just grumble into his hands.  
  


* * *

  
Brainstorm drifted between consciousness and recharge while Perceptor lazily ran his fingers over the corona of his spark. Brainstorm felt warm in the aftermath of their _activities_ , topping off the now routine _transfluid donation_ with a spark merge as well. 

“Does this mean you forgive me?” Perceptor said, just as Brainstorm felt like he might drift off entirely. 

Brainstorm hummed, trying to prompt his processor to work. “Oh… I wasn’t really mad, I was just. Worried.” 

“Well, sorry to have worried you,” Perceptor said. “But I maintain that nothing would have happened…” 

“I know, I know.” Brainstorm prompted his limbs to move and cuddled closer to Perceptor, slipping his arms around him. “My big strong wrecker…” 

Perceptor huffed, but seemed satisfied at that. 

Brainstorm scooted down, plopping his chin right on top of the mound. “Hey, you know what I was thinking of?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Have you thought of any names yet?” 

Perceptor considered that for a minute. “No, I haven’t really given it any thought. I suppose I thought that could come later. He looked down, to where Brainstorm was lightly nuzzling his abdomen. “Have you?” 

“I thought of one,” Brainstorm said, waking up enough to slip an impish note into his voice. 

Perceptor sighed. “Oh no.” 

Brainstorm grinned, tapping a finger against his own helm. “Me,” he said as he moved his hand up towards Percy’s face. “And you…” 

“We are not naming our child Simpatico.” 

“What?” Brainstorm said, unable to even feign indignance through his grin. “It’s like our thing! I said it, and then you said it back to me…” 

“Absolutely not!” 

Brainstorm buried his face against the mound again and simply chuckled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, I just wanted to add a note here that I normally don't have the energy to respond to every comment I get, but absolutely all of them make me so happy! I'm blown away by the support for this super self-indulgent fic, and I hope all of you are enjoying the ride!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the fic CONTINUES to earn it's rating. Mind the tags...

Perceptor was frankly massive. In part it was due to his normally slender frame, but according to Ratchet it was also likely an indicator of the sparkling’s frametype. 

“Surely by now you can tell for certain what it is,” Perceptor said at his last prenatal visit. (Though technically, his previous one was also supposed to be his last one, but Brainstorm’s spawn was proving itself equally as stubborn as its sire.) “I feel as if I could get an outline from it through my plating.” He pressed his hands over his abdomen, as if trying to do just that. 

“Unfortunately, it doesn't work that way, my friend,” Ratchet said, packing the scanner away. “Most of the kibble will remain unformed until after birth, to minimize complications. But given the mass, we can presume it's not a microscope.”

“I suppose all the precautions for a flight frame will go to good use after all then,” Perceptor sighed. 

“Well, actually there's some research to suggest that some cold constructs carry coding from frames other than what they present as, and there are theories that they can pass on that coding to progeny,” Megatron said, scrolling through a tablet. “It's actually quite fascinating. Technically speaking, Brainstorm could pass on data for any number of frame types, perhaps larger than a war flight frame.”

He looked up only to find Perceptor hitting him with a glare, now holding his bump with both hands.

“Of course,” Megatron said, his voice lowering, “it's only a theory.”

“Also Brainstorm has not shown any major signs of frame rejection, other than minor frame dysphoria, which is common in MTOs. Which suggests that his spark coding isn't likely far off the mark from his frame,” Ratchet added. Still, he seemed to consider a moment, tapping his chin. “Though, I suppose that doesn't rule out the possibility that you're carrying the next Jetfire.”

Perceptor wagged a finger at him. “Not funny.”  
  


* * *

  
Perceptor walked into the lab. Though, at this point it was stretching the boundary of facts to term the movement anything but a waddle. Nautica did her best not to look at him and just keep her focus on her work, but with the grumbling coming from his direction, in addition to the already noteworthy mass, it was hard to ignore. 

“Yes, for those of you keeping track, I am _still_ carrying,” Perceptor muttered. He pulled up his workstool, which had already been modified by Brainstorm with a reinforced back to help him relax. But lately he had been dealing with the much more infuriating issue that he was not able to climb up on it like he used to. 

“I guess the doctors weren’t able to do much about the still-carrying issue?” Nautica asked, gently as possible. 

Perceptor swiveled, though at best he was only halfway up on the seat, and gestured at his distended midsection. “Evidently not.”

Brainstorm took that as his cue, breaking away from his work and swooping in to help Perceptor get fully into his chair. Perceptor seemed none too pleased with the need for assistance, but clearly allowed it anyway. 

“Anything I can do?” Brainstorm asked. 

“Stop asking that!” Perceptor snapped. Before Brainstorm could even formulate a response, he sighed regretfully. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. It’s just very frustrating to feel so helpless with no end in sight.”

Brainstorm patted the side of his abdomen, knowingly. “Do you want to… do something else?” His voice lowered a touch. 

Nautica had the good graces to pretend she couldn’t hear anything. 

Perceptor sighed and swatted at him. “Maybe later,” he whispered. “For now, I’d just like to get back to work. Feel useful for a bit.”

Brainstorm dropped a kiss on his head. “Well, let me know if you’d like any… input.”

Perceptor swatted at him again. 

“I meant with your work,” Brainstorm said, his tone more than conveying that he’d meant nothing of the sort. 

Things had passed slowly for the next few hours, mostly in silence after Nautica decided to call it a day. 

Brainstorm had begun timing Perceptor’s contractions sometime after that. Perceptor seemed determined to ignore them and let them pass without comment, but by Brainstorm’s estimation the process was creeping up on the two hour mark. He stood up and stalked over to stand behind Perceptor, and gently wrapping arms around him. Perceptor didn’t startle, if anything just seeming comforted to have Brainstorm close.

Any tenderness of the moment was ruined as Brainstorm feigned difficulty getting his fingertips to meet around the large middle, and Perceptor swatted him for it. 

“So,” Brainstorm said, resting his helm next to Percy’s. “Are we heading to the medbay, or?” 

Perceptor sighed. “The contractions refuse to come in regular intervals. Maybe if they started coming more regularly we could actually do something with this, but until then…” He heaved a deep sigh and thunked his head back against Brainstorm’s shoulder. “It doesn’t make much sense to go to the medbay until the emergence sequence gets itself started in earnest. For now it’s just doing false starts.” His voice was positively dripping with annoyance. 

Brainstorm slipped one hand away from the round midsection to clip his mask off, so that he could turn and kiss his cheek. “Anything I can do to help?” 

Perceptor gave him a look. 

Brainstorm tried his best to look innocent, but it wasn’t an expression he was well versed with.. 

“It is said that transfluid can help initiate the emergence sequence, in some instances…” Perceptor muttered. 

“You don’t say…” Brainstorm was already dipping his head to nibble at Perceptor’s neck cables. 

The past few days, Perceptor had been a bit too crabby — and quite rightfully so, Brainstorm agreed — to entertain such ideas of using such a method of _jumpstarting_ , but this time he gasped and made no move to push Brainstorm away. Quite the opposite, in fact, as his over-strained back arched and he let his head loll a bit more to allow Brainstorm greater access to the cables. Brainstorm didn’t miss a beat seizing that opportunity, nibbling the entire circumference of the cable into his mouth, threading it between his cheek holes. 

Perceptor gripped the lip of the workbench as his legs instinctively parted. “So you, ah — AH… You read that pamphlet as well…” 

Brainstorm chuckled, the sound reverberating through the sensitive mechanisms of Perceptor’s neck, before he released him and spun the chair to bring him and Percy face to face. 

“What kind of scientist would I be if I didn’t do my research?” He slotted himself between Perceptor’s open legs, though the space there was already very occupied by his gravid mound. Nevertheless, he caressed Perceptor’s thighs, guiding them closer around his hips. He then moved his hands, wondering at the mound. There was a vague ripple of movement across it’s taut surface that made Perceptor wince. He cursed his body’s inopportune timing, as he would have liked to enjoy this more fully. However… 

“I’m afraid I may not be up to making things very… interesting,” Perceptor said, cupping his hand over his belly. “My range of motion is a bit… limited.” 

Brainstorm smirked at him, which was equal measures endearing and infuriating. “Don’t worry. Leave it to me.” He leaned in and kissed Perceptor deeply. It didn’t take much to convince Perceptor to leave his fate in Brainstorm’s hands; frankly, he would have done it, kiss or not. But it was simply irresistible to melt into the kiss, his arms raising up on their own accord to drape around Brainstorm’s neck and bring him in closer. He let one hand wander, over Brainstorm’s shoulder, before tweaking his fingers at the base of a wing. Brainstorm shuddered — to Perceptor’s delight — but didn’t pull away from the kiss. 

Brainstorm’s hands moved steadily downward, one of them cupping Perceptor’s left thigh, before pulling up on it. Perceptor hardly had a moment to wonder what was going on before Brainstorm hooked his knee underneath the thigh. He was slowly working that leg under Perceptor, and guiding Perceptor’s leg over his hip, up to his waist. To Perceptor’s surprise, the back of the chair swayed back slightly, but didn’t give out, allowing Brainstorm to work him into a position where their modesty panels brushed easily while Perceptor was still comfortably seated. 

“Interesting,” Perceptor said, as Brainstorm abandoned his lips to nibble at his jawline. “I wouldn’t have thought this chair was sturdy enough to pull off this maneuver,” he said between gasps. 

Brainstorm was teasingly rubbing their panels together when he chuckled again. “Well, I did reinforce it for you.” 

“You don’t mean to tell me you redesigned it with this in mind?” 

Brainstorm was grinning, and any feigned innocence was long forgotten. “You have no idea what restraint its taken to not bend you over in this chair whenever I look at you.” 

Perceptor tried to scoff, but was far too stimulated to follow through with showing any kind of disapproval at that. 

Without his conscious approval, his panel slipped open. He could feel the drip of fluids from his valve, and Brainstorm didn’t miss it either. Before Perceptor noticed he had moved, there were fingers rimming around his valve, teasingly dipping in and popping out. A finger brushed his anterior node, and he bucked into the sensation. 

Brainstorm leaned in close and shushed him. “No need for that. Just lean back and let me do the work.” 

Perceptor glared at him, but took the opportunity to kiss him. “In that case, get on with it.” In any other instance, Perceptor would have gladly ridden Brainstorm’s fingers all night, but as it stood he was absolutely aching with need, and his half-stalled emergence protocols were occasionally making themselves known with an apathetic twinge. The sooner they got things going, the better. 

Brainstorm obliged, Perceptor picking up the unmistakable sound of a panel snapping open and a spike pressurizing. He looked down instinctively, and frowned to realize that his swollen midsection completely blocked his view. Brainstorm seemed to pick up on the glance, but if he did, he had the good graces to ignore it, and kissed him instead. Perceptor moaned into his mouth as the spike finally began to tease at the entrance to his valve. 

Just like during all of their _transfluid donation_ sessions, Perceptor was still blown away by how sensitive his valve was with his carrying protocols taking the lead. Now, it felt even more intense than it had before, his back arching and hips bucking, as much as they could in the limited space. Perceptor felt Brainstorm holding him steady, keeping him from bucking them both clean off the chair. 

Brainstorm began to move, and Perceptor thought he might melt then and there, the spike pressing deep within him. He gripped tightly to Brainstorm’s shoulders as his movements grew shaky. 

“Primus, Percy,” he gasped. “I don’t think your valve has ever felt like this.” 

Hazily, his processor parsed that statement, and the meaning finally came to him he frowned. “Is… is something wrong?” 

Brainstorm shook his head, though his thrusts were still a bit ragged. “It’s like your valve is trying to milk me dry. I’m — ohhh — I’m not gonna last.” 

Perceptor cupped his head in his hands. “Don’t worry.” Without a conscious effort on his part, Perceptor felt his valve clench, and Brainstorm moaned and jerked into his valve as he came. Perceptor could feel the transfluid dripping from him along with the rest of his fluids. Brainstorm didn’t seem done with him yet though, thrusting with as much force as his spent spike could assert. He brought a hand down, vigorously rubbing Perceptor’s anterior node. Perceptor tried to tell him that there was no need to bother, but his climax crashed over him before he could protest, a ripple wracking his frame, running through the length of him before setting in his twinging belly. 

Brainstorm kissed him tiredly, before slipping off of him. He was quick to grab a cleaning cloth, making a face at the various fluid streaking his spike. 

Perceptor settled back into the chair, his optics shuttering closed as he checked in with himself. He felt great, all things told. Much better than the past few hours he had spent grumpily plugging away at his work while his body half-heartedly tortured him. He let his hands caress over his gravid belly, feeling the slight movement beneath the surface. 

And then the strong clench that ripped through his belly. He clutched the workbench lip again as he counted slowly. It seemed to go on forever, much longer than the small, teasing contractions his body had been giving him before. But luckily, his chronometer was much more reliable than his subjective judgement. Still… it told the story of a significantly long contraction. 

“Brainstorm…” 

Perceptor opened his eyes in time to see Brainstorm look up at the mention of his name. Perceptor had wondered when he’d had the time to make himself decent. 

“Want me to clean you up as well?” Brainstorm asked, waving his cleaning cloth. Then he got a better look at it, and made a face before diving to grab a fresh one. 

Perceptor nodded. “Yes… And then it might be best if you helped me to the medbay.” 

“Medbay?” Brainstorm asked, nearly dropping the fresh cloth. “Wait, you mean…” He smirked. “So, I did it, huh?” 

Perceptor preemptively clutched the workbench again, as he felt the first wave of the next contraction creeping up on him. “You don’t have to sound so smug about it.” 

To his surprise, Brainstorm pried his hand off the workbench, and let him squeeze as tightly as he could throughout the contraction. Perceptor had to admit that the hand was much nicer to take his pain out on, soft and comforting. 

“I’m not smug,” Brainstorm said, running the cloth gently between Perceptor’s thighs. “Just excited.” He smirked. “Okay, and maybe a little smug.” 

Perceptor sighed, but as soon as the contraction subsided, he still leaned forward to kiss him.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The grand finale big moment has arrived!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mind the tags for this one as the birth scene is somewhat explicit... BUT, fluff at the end

Perceptor grunted, settling back down against Brainstorm’s chest as the contraction ripping through him finally ebbed. His frame was crackling with heat and exhaustion, and the pressure growing at the apex of his thighs was growing greater and greater with each passing moment. 

He looked up at Brainstorm’s giddy, slightly fearful face, and for a moment let himself think about all of the ways he could kill the mech that had sparked him up like this in the first place. 

“It looks like you’re doing well,” Megatron said, appearing from between Perceptor’s thighs. He had hardly even noticed the examination this time, which could hardly be a good thing. Unlike the last few examinations, Megatron didn’t prompt Perceptor to let his pedes down from the stirrups, which seemed to signal how close he thought things were. “It shouldn’t be much longer now.” 

“You said that an hour ago,” Perceptor muttered, turning his head to that his cheek could touch the cool glass of Brainstorm’s cockpit. In his mind, he had growled that line with all of the heat and frustrustration that he felt, but in actuality his exhaustion had whittled it down to more of a whimper. 

“It really is going a lot faster than we thought it would,” Ratchet said, wisely several paces away from Perceptor’s reach. “Believe it or not, you might want to kill us less if it weren’t so speedy.” 

“Interesting hypothesis,” Perceptor said, hissing as the pain ramped up again. “How about one of you try the slow, torturous mode, and we’ll compare notes.” He grabbed both Brainstorm’s hands as the pain lancing through him reached a crescendo. 

The pressure seemed to build close to breaking, but then released as Perceptor felt a trickle from his valve. Distantly he was aware of the sound of a splash as Brainstorm exclaimed, “What the hell was that?” 

When Perceptor opened his eyes again, Megatron was wiping some fluid from his face. “Nothing that was… entirely unexpected,” Megatron said, though his mannerisms spoke of more disgust than he showed. 

Off to the side, Ratchet was openly chuckling.

Perceptor might have been tempted to join him, but like the crashing of a wave, the pressure returned redoubled. He shouted, bolting up as he felt a mass dropping down, settling at the top of his valve. 

Distantly, he was fairly certain someone — Megatron? Ratchet? — told him he was ready, but he wouldn’t have been able to resist the urge to push no matter what they said. He was rewarded with the feeling of the mass within his dropping, stretching out his valve in a way he had never felt, never imagined. 

As the contraction ebbed, he slowly became aware of the world around him for a moment, like coming up for air. Brainstorm was pressed close against his back, clearly having pushed closer to him when he bolted up. He was crushing one of Brainstorm’s hands, while the other one was helping to brace his leg to open up his valve as much as possible. 

Somehow, Ratchet had come closer without Perceptor’s notice, and was muttering something to Megatron. 

“Is everything alright?” Perceptor managed to ask. 

Ratchet gave an affectionate pat to his suspended shin. “Of course it is. Now, let me do my job. You’ve got your hands full… Or, something of the sort.” 

Which was not an understatement in the slightest. Perceptor’s port felt fuller than he ever knew it could be. Luckily or not, he didn’t have much time to dwell on it, as a contraction ramped up again, and he pushed with it as much as he could muster. He could feel every micron of the sparkling as it passed through his port, brushing against each node and lighting up his sensory net in a brilliant haze. 

His head lolled back onto Brainstorm’s shoulder. Perceptor was sure that Brainstorm whispered something to him, but his processor was too overwhelmed to make sense of any of it. 

At long last, _something_ popped from his valve, and he felt a moment’s relief before a greater pressure filled him. 

“The helm is out,” Megatron explained. “Now you’ve just got the shoulders to get free, and…” 

With the end in sight, Perceptor gave a massive push, and was rewarded with the strange feeling of the large mass stretching his port further, and finally the pop of pressure releasing a bit. Though, he still felt so full that he was nearly confused when someone handed him a mass of protoflesh. 

Sparklings didn’t look like much this close to birth; they were hardly more than limbs and a head, with kibble and colors yet to develop. But Brainstorm let out the most loving gasp as he gazed over Perceptor’s shoulder, and Perceptor couldn’t have disagreed with the sentiment if he wanted to. 

“Much smaller than we expected,” Megatron said, looking over a bit nervously. 

“Speak for yourself,” Perceptor grumbled, but the heat drained into confusion as another contraction lanced through him. 

“Yeah, there’s no really good way to tell you this, but…” Ratchet was examining his valve now, leaving a somewhat stymied Megatron to look on. “You’re going to have to do that all over again.” 

“Wha—” Perceptor crushed the side of the berth as another contraction prompted him to push again. Brainstorm took the sparkling from him just in time for Perceptor to give his whole body to the urge. 

“There’s… another one?” Brainstorm muttered weakly. 

“You see,” Megatron muttered weakly. “Twins are easy to detect _if_ they develop before descending to the gestational tank, but if the spark splits after that point…” 

Perceptor tried to tell him to shut up, but it came out as nothing but a grunt as another helm barreled through his already stretched valve. 

“Great job,” Ratchet said. “Now just do that a couple more times…” 

“Twins,” Brainstorm muttered again, as if it was still dawning on him. “That’s… that’s too many… we’re going to be outnumbered.” 

“If I can still do math, I think that just means we’re even,” Perceptor managed to eek out before baring down again. 

Had he been a bit less distracted, he might have been able to discern why Megatron gave Brainstorm a particularly puzzling look, but as things stood he decided to leave it for when there wasn’t a sparkling lodged in his valve.  
  


* * *

  
Perceptor stirred slightly at the sound of something clattering. In truth, it had hardly been that loud, but he had always been easy to rouse. 

Brainstorm gave him a sheepish look. “Sorry,” he whispered, setting back down the data pad he’d been trying to grab from the pile. “I wanted to let you get your rest.” 

Perceptor shook his head. He looked around, and realized the two sparkling were nestled close by, in the soft nest surrounding them. (He had to admit that he owed Cyclonus an apology; the nest was actually much more comfortable than he had believed it would be when the seeker had shown up at their quarters with the bag of loose materials.) 

Brainstorm gently slipped into the nest with them, and Perceptor felt comforted to have the larger frame cradling him. 

The sparklings were beginning to take on more color now — one a teal blue, the other red — and hints of future kibble were becoming more obvious. 

Ratchet said there was no doubt they were microscopes, and Perceptor fully believed it. Microscopes were rare, but twin microscopes… 

“Did you think of any names?” Brainstorm whispered. 

“I certainly wasn’t prepared for this scenario, but…” He rolled over just enough to look at Brainstorm. “Well, don’t laugh, but I had an idea, but I’m afraid it’s still for the wrong number of sparklings.” 

Brainstorm gave him an odd smile. “Well?” 

Perceptor looked over at the sparklings. “What do you think of…” He pointed to the first born, turning slightly blue. “Sine.” Then he pointed to the younger one, who was such a muted red at the moment it was nearly pink. “And Cosine?” 

Brainstorm stared at him for a moment, before chuckling. “I think it’s… actually more perfect than you think.” 

“What do you mean?” 

Brainstorm’s grin turned sheepish. “Remember… how we spark merged a few times towards the end there?” 

Perceptor stared at him. 

Brainstorm tapped a couple fingers to his chest. “I… wasn’t lying about being outnumbered.”

Perceptor placed a hand over Brainstorm’s spark, coming to terms with the idea of yet another sparkling. “Tangent, huh? … That is somewhat perfect.” He grinned. “We’re going to need a lot of help, huh?” 

Brainstorm answered by way of snuggling closer. “The data pad I was digging for was Nautica’s design for a more robust sparkling containment area.” 

Perceptor considered that for a moment, before nodding. “I can see how that will be necessary later… could use a less harsh sounding name though,” he muttered. 

He felt more than saw Brainstorm shrug, his wings swaying behind them both. “Let Megatron or Cyclonus come up with a better name. They’re the sparkling-crazed ones.”

Perceptor smiled, letting him sink down into the soft cushioning, more relaxed. “Well… maybe we’re not outnumbered after all…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my god, the end kind of snuck up on me here. I just want to say so many thank you's to everyone who has commented, kudo'd, talked up the fic on twitter, etc. I never thought this fic would get so much support, given that it's my self-indulgent side project. So much love to all of you! 
> 
> Also, this fic may be over, but if life doesn't screw me up, hopefully this won't be the last of this little AU. Keep an eye out and wish me luck! 
> 
> Much love! <3   
> \- Grav 
> 
> P.S. As of writing this, the fic has 113 kudos, and I feel hashtag blessed. Hope you like it, jro.


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